Sindy – Every Girl’s Dream

(Above – My first ever Sindy doll!)

I got my first ever Sindy doll when I was four years old. I actually remember getting her… I recall standing in the shop and staring up at the glossy boxes of dolls. It was freezing cold weather outside and I remember being cold and wet. Then the next minute, all was wonderful in the world as I was holding one of these magical boxes with a beautiful brunette Sindy doll gazing out at me from behind the acetate. Oh the joy!

I wonder if my mum realised what she was starting when she bought me that first Sindy doll. Between 1980 and 1986 I went crazy for all things Sindy! My dark haired, maxi-dressed Sindy was joined by a blonde ballerina Sindy the following Christmas. She was extra special as she had bendy elbows and moveable hands. I always remember looking at the box and reading the words “fully poseable”. She also had extra lush eyelashes!

The Sindy collection came on thick and fast after that. No one had to ask what I wanted for my birthday or Christmas. It was obvious.

I was even savvy enough would you believe to trawl through our local newspaper’s free ads pages called ‘Under a Fiver’! Every Saturday I would look through for all things Sindy that were £1 or £2 and then put a little dot next to them. Next job was to put said newspaper page under my dad’s nose… I was pretty fortunate that my parents were clearly impressed enough by my thrifty nature that I acquired a lot of my Sindy collection this way. I remember going to so many different houses where there would be a young girl a few years older than me who had decided that she had outgrown the wonderful world of Sindy.  She would hand over a box of dolls and furniture while gleefully pocketing her couple of pounds.

However, the best Sindy items arrived courtesy of Father Christmas. The most notable Christmas present – and ah, I’m getting misty eyed just thinking about this – was the three-storey town house I received in 1984. The joy of seeing that huge house on Christmas morning will never leave me! The lift, the balcony… Sindy had such a great house. Actually, her whole life was pretty amazing! Her days were full of ballet lessons and gymkhanas. She could go anywhere in her caravan whenever she wanted. She had a beach buggy. She had a pool! And as for her wardrobe… She had some wonderful outfits. From beach-ware to dinner dresses, from smart English tweed to ball gowns, Sindy had an outfit for every occasion.

My Sindy dolls were particularly lucky in that they got to live a double life. Sometimes they left their life of luxury behind and went on an adventure with my brother’s action men in their tank or their moon buggy.

One thing I have noticed from discussing Sindy with friends of a similar age is that you were either a Sindy girl or a Barbie girl.

I did have a few Barbie dolls. I had Skipper too. And Ken! They lived with the Sindy dolls – Ken and Sindy even dated for a short spell – but it was never quite right. While Barbie dolls were undoubtedly glamorous, I was never quite as fond of them. Looking back, I can see that Sindy had much more of a wholesome image. The shoes were a fantastic example of that. Sindy wore chunky shoes, sensible sandals and riding boots. Most Barbie dolls wore pointy pink stilettos. I wasn’t altogether sold on Barbie’s perma-smile either. Sindy’s expression was far more inscrutable!

So, back to my vast Sindy collection. At some point in the last 1980s, I decided that I was far too grown up to have the Sindy house in my bedroom. I remember cringing when I invited a new friend round, thinking that she would think I was horribly uncool to still have all these dolls. They had to go. I didn’t care where they went to. The irony is that I think they ended up for sale on the ‘Under a Fiver’ free ads page in the Saturday paper…

Oh, the regret!

As a mum of a little girl myself,  I have often told her about my amazing Sindy collection. I would have absolutely loved to pass it all on to her. The benefit of hindsight is a wonderful thing!

And of course, sentimentality aside, I can’t help but notice that vintage Sindy items are now selling for quite a high price. There is a part of me that would love to re-build my Sindy collection but the prices prohibit me from allowing this act of self indulgence. Probably a good thing!

Instead, I’ll make do with the big plastic bag of Sindy dolls and clothes that are all that remain of my collection. Unfortunately, some Sindys have suffered rather radical haircuts. Most are wearing odd shoes. Their days of glory in their fabulously furnished three-storey house are but a distant memory for them.

However, they are still as precious to me as they were all those years ago. While their exciting glossiness may have worn off, they hold such magical memories.

When I hold my brunette Sindy in her long blue dress – the self same doll I held in the shop that cold winter day 35 years ago – it connects me to all those wonderful, nostalgic memories of childhood. For that reason, she is just as magical now as she was then.

Thank you for reading x

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Come Fly With Me…

As a regular at flea markets, I wade my way through lots and lots of old photographs and bits of paper. As I’ve mentioned before in other blog posts, it is always such a shame to see so many life memories, mementoes and souvenirs thrown into a cardboard box and slung on a market stall. All these little bits of paper and these old photographs had to have meant something to someone… maybe to more than one person. Of course the reason they find themselves estranged from their owners is usually because the person to whom they belonged has passed away. Most of these bits and pieces are pretty old… But in particular there is a deluge of 1950s snaps on second-hand market stalls. Perhaps this is because cameras and film processing had become widely affordable and available during the 1950s and also because  – sadly – those 30-something-year-olds who were snapping away and preserving memories at that time are now becoming only memories themselves.  So there sit their lifetime’s  ‘scrapbook’, thrown in a box stocked up from a house clearance, where clearly no one was interested in these random bits of paper… Until those of us with a passion for real stories – however small – pick them up, hand over a few pence or pounds and take them home.

So, what made me pick up this little collection – a piece of paper entitled ‘Flight Bulletin’, two picture postcards of an aeroplane and a couple of photos of some smart, glamorous ladies?

The seller had a tin full of photographs, which had apparently all belonged to the same gentleman. He had found these bits separated from the rest in an envelope – the seller himself had found them quite interesting,

I had never heard of a flight bulletin. With the BEA (British European Airlines – now defunct) logo on the top and a selection of information to be filled in by the pilot, this was obviously a way of communicating with the passengers on an aeroplane, pre intercom system.  It says at the top, “Please pass on quickly”.

The flight bulletin tells us that the plane, a Viking aircraft captained by F Foster, was flying at that point over the channel from London to Geneva, at 7,500ft and the weather was noted to be ‘smooth’.

Here is where the postcards came in.  They were both sent in 1950 from Geneva to London, and they both show the Viking aircraft. They are from grandparents to their grandson. I just love the excitement the grandmother felt from taking this flight, and how she wanted to share it with her grandson:

“Dear Richard,

As promised we are sending you a photo of the plane we travelled in. We sat up in front and just outside the window the propeller was whizzing round. It was a lovely ride and as we looked down we could see all the lights of the Harrow Road and London. It looked like a fairy toy town it was so very pretty.

Love from Nan and Grandad”

The other postcard – this time penned by Grandad – is apparently a picture of the exact aircraft that Richard’s grandparents were going to be flying home in. Grandad notes, “I thought you would like it as it was taken at the aiport. There is another one beside it which has just come from England!”

The market seller believed the photos of the smartly dressed ladies to be the air hostesses on the flight as they were in the envelope with the other bits, but there is no writing on these photos. The ladies certainly look as smart and glamorous as you would expect a 1950s air hostess to look.

I can’t imagine that many people got to take passenger flights like this in 1950. The Viking plane was a British-made, twin-engine, propeller driven aircraft derived from the Vickers bomber aircraft used during WWII. It took its first passenger flight in 1946, just four years before ‘Nan and Grandad’ took their flight to Geneva. This was the start of air travel as we know it today. Of course we now take it for granted – there are thousands of flights and the cost of air travel has dramatically decreased in price – but I think in 1950 it must have felt like a pretty magical thing to fly in an aeroplane. And Richard’s Nan and Grandad wanted to share that with him.

And that is why I pick up these little bits of paper on market stalls. Here were two grandparents wanting to share that magic and excitement of their (first?) flight with their grandson. He must have been so excited when the postcard arrived from Geneva, and clearly his grandparents kept the flight bulletin sheet for him too as a souvenir. These things were sent in kindness and kept with love for 65 years – to me, that makes them important memories and ones that I would like to keep alive now.

Thank you for reading x

Sheila, 1948. The Diary Of A 17 Year Old.

Back in April I was browsing the stalls at my local flea market. A brown, tattered suitcase caught my eye. I love old suitcases, and this one was small and battered to perfection. I asked how much it was and the seller replied that it would be £25 because it had so much inside. I hadn’t realised the contents – lots of photos, cards and pieces of paper – were ‘part of the package’. I had a little look through… The contents seemed to have belonged to a gentleman called Alfred and most of the items were from WWII era. It really was fascinating, if not a little sad. How does somebody’s paper life-story end up on a market stall? I often see this type of thing… I never quite understand how there could be no relatives of these people who would want to ‘look after’ these memories.

Anyway, much as I would have liked to buy the suitcase and its fascinating contents, I concluded that £25 was too much to spend. The seller offered me the case by itself for £5 so I agreed and as I handed over my money, the seller emptied the contents on to the table. I really did feel pretty awful about that and I can’t even tell you why.

The seller started to arrange the contents of the suitcase on his stall and commented that there was a diary that had been filled in from cover to cover. He could obviously tell that I was interested in all these homeless mementos and he very kindly dropped the diary into the suitcase and said that I could have it. I wondered what Alfred had written about… so much of his collection had stemmed from the war years and it was apparent that he had been in military action.

I was very surprised when I opened the diary and saw that the writer was actually a woman – Sheila.

Sheila had written her name, address, weight, height and birthday. She was 17, and the year was 1948.

I may never know quite why the diary was in the collection of photos etc. in the gentleman’s suitcase. Perhaps Sheila had a connection to Alfred. My immediate thought was that it was his wife’s diary, however I eventually discovered that this was not the case.

I sat and read Sheila’s diary and I can’t even begin to explain how wonderful it is. There is an entry for every single day of 1948. The pure joy of the diary is that Sheila has recorded everyday events and routines, but even the mundane feel fascinating almost 70 years later. It is the most incredible insight into the life of a young woman in post-war Britain. Sheila lived at home with her parents and she had a boyfriend she adored called Eric. Most days make mention of Eric, and whether Sheila has seen him. When they do see each other they go to the pictures (Sheila actually goes to the pictures at least once every week), play cards, draughts and darts and get fish and chips. As a couple they seem like best friends, and I can only imagine how hard Sheila found it when Eric joined the air force and went away in August of that year.

On the 5th August Sheila writes,

“Eric’s gone today . Does feel lonely without him. Stayed in at night and embroidered some of my table cover. Bought some envelopes, a pad and stamps”

For the rest of the year, Sheila reports daily whether she has written to Eric or received a letter.

However, in between writing to Eric, Sheila also records so much else. It really is a joy to read. She knits, she sews, she also does quite a bit of housework for her mother. She takes a great pride in her appearance and she comments a couple of times a week that she has ‘put my curlers up’ and washed her stockings and her ribbons. There is also mention of mending clothes, altering them to fit and pressing/ironing them. She goes out with friends to the pictures and she goes for tea at family member’s houses.

Occasionally she remarks after seeing Eric that they ‘had a bit of fun’. I’m guessing that this may be a euphemism for something!

The diary finishes on the 30th December 1948. Sheila writes,

“Stayed in. Did a jigsaw puzzle. Evelyn came up, listened to a play. Washed my stockings. Went to bed at 10”

Sheila’s diary is a happy diary, in actual fact her life of simple pleasures sounds incredibly alluring in today’s high-tech, high-speed world. I’m not sure how happy or carefree the post-war 1940s were for society in general – a time of great austerity, where many families had lost loved ones, when money was tight and rationing still existed. What the diary illustrates so perfectly is the happiness that can be gained from small things. The simple things – love, family, taking care of yourself, friends – these are the things that are timeless and as relevant today as they were 67 years ago.

You may be interested to know that I was able to find out that Sheila and Eric married in 1953. I also discovered that they both sadly passed away in recent years.

While I didn’t know Sheila, I cant help but feel a real fondness for the 17-year-old who has unwittingly shared her year with me.

(NB The photographs shown accompanying Sheila’s diary are not of Sheila. They are photos from my personal collection of my grandma and her friends in the 1940s, they give a good illustration of the fashions the time.)

About My Blog

I am a collector.  I’d love to be able to tell you exactly what I collect, but it’s a little tricky. You see, I am what you might call an inconsistent collector. For  a more definite term, you could ask my kids what I collect and they will tell you that I collect ‘old stuff’.

My kids are of course right, I collect lots and lots of ‘old stuff’. I regularly trawl markets, car boot sales, antique shops and eBay in search of more ‘old stuff’ for my collection. And of course, I’m a lot more specific in my quest of stuff than simply requiring it to be old.

But again, I struggle a little at this point to tell you what I go in search of. What I come home with is always varied, that’s for sure. 1950s toys, 1940s newspapers, Edwardian postcards, Victorian photos, 1920s gramophone records, 1930s children’s books, toys and books that I recall from my childhood (late 70s-80s). That’s a lot of ‘old stuff’.

While I can’t tell you exactly what I am in search of (especially as I’m not sure myself) or even what my ‘collection’ is made up of, I can tell you what it is that an item has to have to win me over.

It has to ignite something in my heart and my head. It needs to set off memories, evoke nostalgia or start a stream of thoughts. Perhaps what I’m trying to say is that it needs to enchant me.

Isn’t ‘enchant’ such a wonderful word? The dictionary tells us that to enchant means to delight someone, to charm them or put them under a spell. That’s it ! Now I can tell you what I collect! I collect items – whether they be books, dolls, clocks, letters, postcards – that enchant my soul.

Ah okay, maybe that is still as vague as the ‘old stuff’ label my kids have for the things I fall in love with. So, how about I show you all the things I have found that have lit a little touch paper in my head and in my heart? I would love to share the stories, thoughts, memories or emotions that are woven into the bits and pieces that I buy. From the late 19th century photos that I have to the 1980s books and toys, I have fallen in love with 100 years of stories.